The Bodyguards
by Red Witch
Summary: A Hollywood star hires the Figgis Agency to protect him. Too bad he didn't hire someone to protect him from the Figgis Agency.


**The disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters has hired some protection. This is another adventure of the Figgis Agency that came out of my tiny little mind. Ties in with Rave On Figgis Agency. Think of this as a public service message about drugs, alcohol, fireworks and of hiring the wrong people.**

 **The Bodyguards **

The latest disaster for the Figgis Agency happened as these things usually do. Unexpectedly.

This time the unexpected was that a client **actually showed up** to the office.

"Excuse me," A very handsome broad-shouldered man with blond hair walked in. He was wearing dark sunglasses, a red shirt with a black leather jacket, dark blue jeans and boots. "Is this the Figgis Agency?"

"Technically," Cheryl was doing her nails at her desk. She did a double take. "But this can be anyplace you want. Like Cheryl Tunt's Fun House!"

Pam, Ray, Lana and Krieger were in the bullpen when this exchange happened. "Cheryl!" Lana barked.

"What?" Cheryl snapped. "He's hot!"

"Thank you," The man took off his sunglasses to reveal piercing green eyes. "I need to hire some bodyguards to protect me from a death threat. My name is…"

"Blaine Bainbridge!" Pam gasped.

"The _**actor?**_ " Ray practically screamed.

"Tone it down Ray," Lana said. "I think there are some dogs two blocks from here that heard you."

"What's going on?" Cyril asked. "Hello."

"It's Blaine Bainbridge!" Ray said excitedly. "The actor!"

"By the way," Pam said. "Your mug shot doesn't do you half justice."

"PAM!" Lana and Cyril shouted.

"What?" Pam snapped. "It doesn't!"

"I'm sure Mr. Bainbridge doesn't want to be reminded of…" Cyril paused. "The incident in Malibu."

"I know I don't," Ray groaned.

"And I only had like one freaking candy," Blaine groaned. "Good thing I didn't drink the wine or eat half of that piñata like Celestina did."

"No wonder she jumped off the roof," Lana blinked. "Wait how did you find our office?"

"My friend Celestina said she had a cousin that worked at a detective's office," Blaine explained. "And I saw this ad all over town." He showed them a pink flyer for the Figgis Agency.

"God Damn…" Lana sighed at the familiar pink flyer.

"Told you advertising was the way to go," Pam looked at Cyril.

"So, what can we do for you Mr. Bainbridge?" Cyril asked.

"Look I'm going to level with you," Blaine said.

"That's a change," Pam remarked.

"There is no real death threat," Blaine said.

"That's not," Ray added.

Blaine went on. "Nobody wants me dead. I have too many creditors and ex-wives to pay off. I just invented the threat to keep my name in the papers."

"You invented a death threat for **publicity**?" Lana was stunned.

"Look in this town your reputation is everything," Blaine explained. "My last three movies tanked at the box office. I had two DUIs last year. Everyone was on the side of my last ex-wife when we got divorced."

"What did you do?" Pam asked.

"His sisters in law," Ray explained. "And the nanny."

"Oh right!" Pam realized. "I remember that sex tape."

"It cost me child support for two kids that aren't **even mine**!" Blaine groaned. "They were my ex-wife's."

"I hear her reality show is doing well now," Cheryl said. "And that nanny just got a deal for a fitness tape."

"Let's just say I now know how Ray J feels," Blaine groaned. "Look here's the plan. I invent a death threat and hire some bodyguards for the weekend. Pretend to sober up and reevaluate my life…blah, blah, blah…And then go on every talk show and tell the world how I beat addiction. It's the latest thing!"

"He's right," Ray said. "Everybody loves a story of a bad boy turning his life around."

"That's how half the actors in this town got major pictures," Blaine said. "And I desperately need work so I figure why not go that route?"

"Well I suppose there's no real harm to be done," Cyril admitted. "We'll take the case. Of course, there is the fee…"

"I will pay two hundred thousand dollars," Blaine said. "Half now, the rest after the weekend."

Cyril kept a straight face. "That's in the ballpark of what we charge. Okay. So, what do you need us to do?"

"Have the paparazzi take a few shots of me going into my house looking full of shame," Blaine explained. Some of you can wear sunglasses and look tough. Take turns standing outside while the rest of you keep me company inside my house for a weekend."

"That's not hard," Cyril said.

"Phrasing!" Pam and Cheryl said at the same time.

"Oh," Blaine said. "It would help if one of you pretended to be a doctor."

"You're in luck," Pam pointed to Krieger.

"I am too a doctor!" Krieger protested.

"Not legally," Cyril said.

"Like that matters," Krieger waved.

"Not in this case actually," Blaine shrugged. "Oh, and I'm going to need some pictures of me and my bodyguards going into the house. Turns out the paparazzi are busy this weekend. Trust me, I called."

"How can the paparazzi be too busy to take pictures of a handsome troubled star hiding in his mansion trying to get his life together?" Lana asked.

"There's a Kardashian family reunion this weekend," Blaine explained.

"Ohhhhh…" Pam, Ray and Cheryl said at the same time.

"Plus, three huge Hollywood divorces just broke at the same time," Blaine went on. "Involving the stars of two huge new blockbusters. As well as a producer having an affair with an agent and a key grip."

"Ohhh…" Pam, Ray, Cheryl and Krieger said at the same time.

"And I just heard that Milan Carlton just ran over two reporters from ZMT with her Mercedes Benz," Blaine added. "While screaming, ' _Die Paparazzi scum, die'_!"

"Ohhhh," Everyone in the Figgis Agency said.

"Don't forget all that Long Water fallout is still going on," Pam spoke up. "As well as a bunch of new sexual harassment lawsuits. And those porn stars are testifying at Congress this week. Man, those paparazzi must be swamped!"

"Yeah it's a busy week for them," Blaine groaned. "I figure it would be easier if I provide the photos. Plus, I could make some money selling them. It's nothing I haven't done before."

"That happens a lot more often than you'd think," Krieger nodded.

Two days later…

"You really think this will work?" Lana asked as she stood next to Blaine outside his oceanside mansion. They were both wearing dark sunglasses.

"Trust me," Blaine said. "The press will eat this up. Or at the very least the newspapers will pay fifty bucks for it."

"Okay now…" Krieger was snapping pictures. "Blaine, look furtive. Lana look serious. That's good! Good! Okay now Nurse Cheryl move it!"

Cheryl walked over wearing a tight fitting sexy nurse costume. "Nurse Cheryl reporting for sploosh!"

"Oh, for the love of…" Pam folded her arms. She was wearing a black turtle neck, black pants with sunglasses.

"What's sploosh?" Blaine blinked.

"I'll show you later," Cheryl purred.

"O-kay…" Blaine gulped. "Maybe we should go inside?"

They entered the opulent mansion. They also saw it had several video game machines all along the halls. "Wait…" Cyril looked around. "Pac Man? Donkey Kong? Space Invaders? Super Space Invaders!"

"I like games," Blaine shrugged. "Why should people waiting in hallways be bored?"

"Are those Storm Trooper costumes?" Ray pointed.

"They're some of the original costumes from the newer films," Blaine said. "I couldn't afford the older ones."

"Man, you are as rich as balls," Pam whistled.

"Not as much as I used to be," Blaine said. "That's the problem. I kind of have a bad spending habit. Again, that's why I'm doing the career makeover."

"Just so I'm clear," Lana said. "I'm not complaining mind you…"

"That will be a first," Cheryl rolled her eyes.

"But you're going to spend an entire weekend alone in your house with a group of strangers?" Lana asked. "What about your friends?"

" _What friends_?" Blaine asked bitterly. "Half my entourage jumped ship and went with my ex-wife. And the other half ran off to be my nanny's entourage!"

"Yikes," Pam winced. "What about your agent?"

"Let's just say my agent and I aren't talking right now," Blaine grumbled. "He didn't dump me as a client but he's not exactly looking for work for me."

"He's also your ex-wife's client and your former nanny's client," Cyril guessed.

"How very perceptive," Blaine groaned. "So, make yourselves at home."

"Okay," Cheryl purred as she grabbed Blaine and dragged him along. "Which way is the master bedroom?"

"Oh no you don't!" Pam snapped as she followed Cheryl. "You're not getting all of this! I want in too! Phrasing!"

"Uh hang on," Blaine tried to get away but Pam grabbed his other arm. "What are they doing? Guys? GUYS? HELP!"

"Should we do something about that?" Cyril asked as Pam and Cheryl took Blaine away.

"Eh he'll be fine," Krieger waved.

"Yeah," Ray nodded as they went into a lavish living room filled with several games, large screen TVs and other objects.

"He's a big boy," Lana admitted. "I'm sure Pam and Cheryl won't hurt him that much. What worries me…"

"Is if Ms. Archer will hurt us if and when she finds out about this," Ray finished her sentence.

"Trust me Mallory is in no state to even **think** about us right now," Lana said. "When I called her this morning I said we were all going out tonight and she said she just didn't care."

"You made it sound like we were going to a bar, didn't you?" Cyril asked.

"I may have given her that impression," Lana admitted.

"Hey look!" Krieger pointed. "They have Ultra Dance Revolution!"

"Ooh! I wanna play!" Ray squealed. "I want to play!"

Ray and Krieger ran over to the game. "Let's do this thing!" Krieger crowed. The two of them began to dance on the machine.

"Guys!" Lana protested. "We should at least **pretend** to take this seriously!"

"Lighten up Lana," Cyril said. "Let them have some fun!"

"Dance! Dance! Dance!" Ray danced.

"Yowza! Yowza! Yowza!" Krieger danced.

"I'm just saying maybe we should put some of that money we get aside for Mallory?" Lana said. "At least some of the advance money."

"That's a stupid idea," Ray said as he danced.

"Especially since I've already spent the money," Cyril added.

"On **what**?" Lana snapped, outraged.

"On your **salaries** for the week!" Cyril snapped back. "Unless you really don't want a paycheck…"

"Oh, sorry," Lana apologized. "Hang on. You spent a **hundred thousand dollars** on our salaries?"

"Do we even get **paid** that much?" Krieger asked. "I don't remember getting a raise."

"Not just that," Cyril waved. "I also paid the electric bill. The water bill. The phone bill. The cable and internet bill. A new coffee machine for the break room. A few fines Pam racked up for her advertising campaign…"

"You mean when she litters the entire town with pink flyers?" Ray asked.

"Exactly," Cyril said. "As well as a few other…incidentals."

"What kind of incidentals?" Lana asked.

"Uhh…" Cyril paused.

FLASHBACK…

Cyril was at his computer. "Okay even **after** paying all those bills and expenses…And getting a new coffee machine and stamps I have 25,437 dollars left. Boy stamps are expensive. Even when you order them online."

"So…" Cyril worked on his computer. "I will round things off by depositing 5,437 dollars in my personal bank account. Done. Next, I will transfer five…No, **ten thousand** dollars into my secret Cayman Islands account. Well a man needs a retirement plan."

"And I plan on retiring on enough money so I can run **far away** and never see any of these assholes ever again! Most likely I'd have to go to a place than bans alcohol. That would repel this lot away like garlic does a vampire."

"So that leaves me ten thousand dollars," Cyril looked at the amount. "I could just save it for a rainy day. Or…I could use some new cashmere sweater vests. A new suit couldn't hurt. And some shoes. Oh! And a back massager for my office chair! I need something to release my tension. And since Lana is still saying no to me…"

"What the hell?" Cyril grinned. "Time for Cyril to do some shopping! Oooh! I might as well upgrade to Nile Prime while I'm at it! That way I can download all those new TV shows!"

FLASHFORWARD…

"Just stuff we need for around the office!" Cyril snapped. "Seriously you would not believe how expensive stamps are."

"Well…" Lana paused. "I guess you have a point. As long as it was for the office."

"And our paychecks," Ray added as he and Krieger danced.

"Lana this is literally the easiest assignment our agency has ever had," Cyril said as he relaxed. "All we have to do is sit around with a movie star for a weekend. Even we can't screw **that** up!"

Meanwhile in the master bedroom…

"Screw **this!** " Cheryl pointed at her body. She was down to her sexy lingerie. "Screw **this** up to kingdom come!"

"Desperate much?" Pam snorted. "Don't forget to tag me in."

"What the hell is happening here?" Blaine shouted.

"A threesome if you play your cards right," Pam snorted.

"Is that what **this** is?" Blaine blinked. "I've heard of these but I never thought they started out like this! Boy those porn movies got it all wrong."

"They are misleading," Pam admitted. "Let's start this another way. How about a drink?"

"Good idea," Blaine pointed. "There's some drinks in the refrigerator."

"You have a fridge in your bedroom?" Pam grinned. "Sweet!"

"Ooh! See if he's got any champagne!" Cheryl giggled. "Or bourbon."

"I don't have any of those," Blaine said.

"I say you don't," Pam looked in the small fridge. "All I see here is water, sports drink…More water! What the shit?"

"Well you said…" Blaine began.

"I know what I said!" Pam snapped. "Where's the good stuff?"

"Fiji water is pretty good," Blaine suggested.

"Not the **water** , Calamity Blaine!" Pam told him. "The booze! The hooch. The rotgut. The firewater!"

"I love that phrase!" Cheryl giggled. "Firewater!"

"Not now Flame for Brains," Pam said. "So where do you keep your hooch pooch?"

"I don't," Blaine said. "I don't drink alcohol so I don't have any in the house."

Pam and Cheryl gasped in shock. "What do you mean you **don't drink**?" Cheryl blinked. "Like just scotch or…?"

"I don't drink alcohol," Blaine explained.

"What do you mean you **don't drink alcohol**?" Pam asked. "Like on weekends or…?"

"I don't drink alcohol period," Blaine said. "Never touch the stuff."

"Hang on," Pam said. "But I've **seen** you drink! Like on _Second Avenue Street Thug_ or _Bootleg Bandit Three…_ "

"You know they usually don't use **real alcohol** for those scenes in movies, right?" Blaine asked. "Crazy thing, for some reason the directors and producers want their stars sober and remembering their lines."

"Okay but…" Pam paused. "I've seen you drink in restaurants. In all those magazines and…"

"Nonalcoholic beer and basically ginger ale in a fancy glass," Blaine interrupted.

"Well then how the hell did you get two frickin' DUI's if you **don't drink**?" Pam snapped.

"Oh those," Blaine waved. "I wasn't really drunk. I paid the cops off to fake a couple of DUIs so I could be in the running for a movie. Which I didn't get. Thanks a lot Robert Downey Junior!"

"Wait **what?** " Cheryl and Pam asked.

"It's kind of hard to maintain a party animal bad boy image if you don't have at least a couple of DUI's in this town," Blaine said. "The only acceptable way to **not drink** is to have a drinking problem! That's part of the reason I hired you guys. To make it look like I'm trying to get sober."

"But you **are** sober," Pam pointed out.

"Exactly," Blaine nodded.

"Hang on," Cheryl waved. "You're actually a **teetotaler?** "

"If that means a person who doesn't drink alcohol then yes," Blaine said. "I am."

"You're a nondrinker…?" Pam gasped. "An abstainer? A…A… **Wowser?"**

"Technically a Wowser is a person who's critical of other's lifestyles," Cheryl said. "But I think it applies to this case too. Like wow…Errrr…. That's even more shocking than finding out someone is gay!"

"Definitely," Pam nodded.

"That's where the **pretend to sober up** part comes into play," Blaine explained. "Look I had a choice when I came to Hollywood. Clean cut nerd or bad boy party animal. My agent said I was too good looking to be a nerd so…"

"And you've never even had a **glass** of alcohol in all these years?" Pam gasped. "Are you shitting me?"

"Blame my Mormon upbringing," Blaine said. "Ironically the only thing I did keep from my youth. I just never found alcohol interesting or tasteful."

"Well that's just blasphemy," Cheryl recoiled.

"I'm sorry that we're so shocked," Pam said. "I mean we've heard of people like you. But…"

"We never met one," Cheryl added. "We've always assumed that they're like really old ladies. Or nuns which are basically old ladies in uniforms. Or old guys in comas…"

"Well there's no alcohol here," Blaine said.

"Good thing I brought this," Pam whipped out a flask.

"There's another in my purse," Cheryl said. "Next to the gummies."

"Hang on," Blaine said. "You want me to…Actually _drink alcohol_?"

"That is the general idea," Cheryl looked at him. "Not too bright, is he?"

"Think of this as preparation for a role," Pam said. "If you want to play say an alcoholic you have to at least **taste** alcohol first!"

"That does make sense," Blaine thought.

"And it will add some truth to your tale of debauchery and redemption," Cheryl added.

"Well when you put it like that…" Blaine looked at Cheryl's scantily clad body. "Why not? What's the harm?"

"That's the spirit!" Pam handed him her flask. Then took off her top. "What?" She asked the shocked Blaine.

About an hour later…

"VRRROOM! VRRORROMM!" Krieger cheered as he played a video game on a large screen TV with Ray and Cyril. "And it's Krieger in the lead as he takes the Mario 4000…Where the hell did that Koopa shell come from?"

"Ha! Ha!" Cyril mocked. "Eat my dust!"

"Aw man," Krieger groaned. He grabbed a cookie off the plate. "These are good cookies! Thanks Lana for getting them."

"Thanks for making me go to the kitchen to get the damn cookies," Lana said sarcastically.

"We were playing a game!" Cyril said honestly. "And you didn't want to play. Oh boy! I'm on fire tonight!"

"You will be on fire if you make me get food for you again," Lana glared at him.

"I think you've been hanging around Cheryl too much hon," Ray remarked.

"I **know** I've been hanging around Cheryl too much," Lana groaned.

"You know what would go great with these cookies?" Ray asked.

"Besides the taste of victory?" Cyril grinned. "HA! HA! POWER UP!"

"Alcohol," Ray said. "Lana are you sure you didn't see any alcohol when you were in the kitchen."

"No, I didn't," Lana barked. "And trust me I looked!"

WHOOP! WHOOP! VRRRROOM!

"WHAT THE HELL?" Cyril shouted.

" **You** should have looked," Ray snickered. "Off the cliff he goes!"

"Whomp! Whomp!" Lana mocked.

"LANA! LANA! CYRIL! KRIEGER! RAY!" Cheryl and Pam were heard screaming.

"Oh, what fresh hell did those two conjure up now?" Ray groaned.

"LANA! KREIGER!" Pam and Cheryl ran in wearing only their undergarments. Pam was hooking her bra back up.

"I take it you two were having a little party of your own with our client?" Cyril sighed.

"Uh yeah," Pam said. "But then things got a little out of control…"

"How out of control?" Lana asked.

"The kind when the guy isn't breathing anymore," Pam winced.

"WHAT?" Everyone jumped up.

"I tried giving him CPR but nothing!" Pam said in a panicked voice.

"I threw a chair across the room!" Cheryl said. "Nothing!"

"Oh, good lord!" Ray groaned.

"Oh god Pam did you kill **another guy** by having sex with him?" Cyril shouted.

"Hey I was there too!" Cheryl said. "And I had just as much sex as Pam!"

"Good Cheryl," Ray sighed. "Make yourself an accomplice."

"So much for not screwing up, huh Cyril?" Lana barked. "This is the Donovan King incident all over again!"

"Oh yeah," Pam realized. "I forgot about that guy."

"How do you forget screwing a guy to death?" Ray asked.

"It happens more often than you think," Pam shrugged.

"Come on!" Lana said. They started to run to the master bedroom. "Pam what happened?"

"I don't know!" Pam was half sobbing. "It all happened so fast. Right after we convinced him to take his first drink ever everything…"

"What do you mean by first drink **ever?** " Ray interrupted.

"The guy didn't drink," Cheryl said. "His whole party boy persona is a complete lie. Or was a complete lie."

"What do you mean he **didn't drink?"** Lana blinked.

"He was a teetotaler," Pam explained. "An abstainer from alcohol."

"When you say abstain from alcohol…?" Krieger blinked.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Pam said.

"Wowsers," Cyril exclaimed.

"Yeah **that** ," Cheryl said. "Only without the judgmental part."

"Huh," Lana said. "Never met one of those before. Well technically one of my aunts is but she's like 97 so…"

"That's more shocking than finding out someone is gay," Ray blinked.

They were soon in the master bedroom. Blaine was naked and definitely gone on the messy bed. "Well here's another shocking thing," Lana sighed after she checked his vitals. "He's definitely dead."

"Good thing he paid in advance," Krieger blinked.

"How did he die?" Cyril shouted.

"I don't know!" Pam said. "We were having fun partying. He was enjoying his first drink and getting really tipsy…Then we were starting to get the munchies…"

"I gave him a couple of my Groovy Bears," Cheryl remembered. "The next thing I knew…He was a stiffy. And not in a good way."

"He overdosed after eating only a handful of **Groovy Bears**?" Cyril gasped.

"Lightweight," Cheryl scoffed.

"So you are saying he died after having his first taste of alcohol and drugs **ever?** " Ray was stunned. "Calling After School Special Line One!"

"How could you be so **stupid**?" Lana snapped at the two. "Giving that man drugs?"

"It's not like we put them in his drink without his knowledge," Pam told them. "He was totally consensual!"

"He's been saying he's been doing drugs and alcohol for **years!** " Cheryl pointed out.

"Which turned out to be a lie," Pam said.

"All we were doing was making sure his story held up!" Cheryl added. " **He's** the _liar!_ Not us!"

"We were only making sure his story sounded true for his so-called rehab apology tour!" Pam protested.

"You still can't give drugs to people without knowing how their bodies will react!" Krieger snapped.

"Krieger," Ray sighed. "How many of **your interns** died after **you** gave them weird drugs?"

Krieger paused. "Point taken."

"And let's be honest," Lana admitted. "This is not exactly the **first** accidental death we're responsible for."

" _First?"_ Pam snorted. "We're in the triple digits by now!"

"Especially if you factor in all those people who died during our office parties," Ray added.

"God that's depressing," Lana groaned.

"Let me see if I get this straight," Cyril groaned. "A man who has been **pretending** to have a drug and alcohol problem for years, but didn't…Died **after** trying alcohol and drugs for the **first time?"**

" **Yes** Cyril!" Ray snapped. "After School Special! Keep up!"

"If you think about it," Cheryl said. "This guy was insulting people with **actual** drug and alcohol problems."

"Which it turns out," Ray looked at the corpse. "He had. He just didn't know about it until it was too late."

"So, the moral is," Lana sighed. "Don't take drugs or alcohol from strange people."

"Unless you know for sure you can handle it," Cheryl added.

"If Cheryl and Pam aren't prime examples of **strange people** …" Ray groaned. "The real question is what we are going to do **now**?"

"I guess we'd better call the police," Lana sighed.

"Are you out of your sweater dress wearing **mind?** " Ray shouted. "Yeah, call the cops! With Cheryl's Groovy Bears in his stomach that Krieger made? And the alcohol **these two** gave him? And our fingerprints all over the place?"

"Fingerprints are the **least** of our problems!" Krieger said. "This whole room is practically Sploosh Town!"

"The cops would definitely want to know more about that," Cyril groaned. "And I have a feeling they won't be happy with the answer."

"And with our reputation as it is…" Pam realized. "Oh shit."

"We are the world's worst bodyguards," Ray groaned.

"This does seem to happen to us a lot doesn't it?" Cheryl realized.

"Okay so let's look at the situation," Cyril gulped. "We accidentally killed a well-known actor while being hired to protect him…Because Pam and Cheryl gave him drugs and alcohol he clearly couldn't tolerate. And we were too busy playing video games. This is not good."

"YOU **THINK?"** Lana snapped.

"I am so going to lose my detective license for this," Cyril groaned.

"That's the **least** of which we could lose Dr. Conrad Moron!" Lana snapped. "I'm not going back to jail for this! I'm **not** taking the fall for **this!** "

"Nobody is taking the fall for **anything!** " Pam snapped as she put her clothes back on. "Just calm down. We just have to think of something."

"Think of a plan to get us out of the accidental overdose we caused," Cyril groaned. "We're doomed!"

"I have an idea," Krieger looked out the window. He saw a large sailboat tied up outside the docks.

An hour later…On the docks of Bainbridge's estate Lana, Ray and Krieger were putting their plan in motion.

"Are you sure this will work?" Ray asked Krieger.

Krieger was using a small remote to control a sailboat. "Of course this will work. I've got it all timed perfectly."

"I can't believe we're resorting to a plan straight out of Weekend at Bernie's," Lana rolled her eyes.

"I know right?" Krieger said excitedly. "How awesome is that?"

"I don't know if this is going to work," Lana groaned.

"Well if Cyril and Pam do their jobs right…" Ray began.

"Hang on, what about Cheryl?" Krieger asked.

"We took care of her," Ray pointed at Cheryl passed out on the lawn. She was still only in her underwear.

"We decided it was for the best that she spends this part of the plan unconscious," Lana added.

"How did she pass out?" Ray asked.

"I punched her," Lana said.

"That explains the black eye," Ray blinked. "And why she has that smile on her face."

Meanwhile on the beach Pam and Cyril were 'casually' walking around. They made sure they were near an area where a small group of people were hanging around. "What a lovely night for a romantic stroll on the beach," Cyril said. "Where nothing usually happens."

"Hey look!" Pam said in a very loud voice. "It's the actor Blaine Bainbridge! Sailing on his yacht! Wayyyyyy out in the ocean!"

"Yes, it's definitely **him!** " Cyril called out. "Blaine Bainbridge! The bad boy party animal! I wonder what antics he's pulling **now?** "

That got the attention of a small crowd of people on the beach. "It is Blaine Bainbridge!" Pam called out. She waved to the boat. "Hi Blaine! We love you!"

"Don't oversell it, Pam," Cyril whispered.

"Shut up!" Pam whispered back.

Krieger used the controls to use a small rigged pulley system that had Blaine's dressed up corpse wave to the small crowd on the beach. He then turned on a sound device that blared from a hidden megaphone.

"Hey dudes! Surf's up!" Blaine's voice was heard over the waters. "I'm gonna blow up some totally bitching fireworks dude!"

"Good thing he made that movie _Surfing Psychopaths_ ," Ray said to Lana.

"Even better that it's one of my favorite movies and I was able to record the dialog," Krieger nodded. "Which is going to come in handy **right now**." He pressed a button.

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The boat exploded into a firey colorful blaze. Several kinds of fireworks shot into the sky as well for all to see.

"Oh my God!" Cyril summoned his best acting ability. "Blaine Bainbridge just blew himself up in a drunken fireworks binge!"

"Oh, the humanity!" Pam swooned. The small crowd on shore screamed and reacted accordingly. Taking out their cell phones to videotape the fireball. Most forgot to call 911 but eventually someone did.

"There she blows," Lana remarked as she saw the fireball and fireworks from a distance.

"Seriously that dialog from that movie was perfect," Krieger said to the others. "I couldn't have written it better myself."

"I can't write fiction this good," Ray groaned.

The following morning back at the Figgis Agency…

"Tragedy rocked the movie industry again last night," Reporter Grace Ryan was shown at an anchor desk. "While sailing on his yacht, actor Blaire Bainbridge died after a freak accident involving fireworks. Bainbridge, best known for his roles on _Surfing Psychopaths_ , _Second Avenue Street Thug_ and the _Bootleg Bandit_ series had become better known for his partying off screen."

Images from a police body camera of a naked Blaire being arrested with his genitals blurred out were shown. "As if the wild Malibu Pot Party of Death wasn't enough, Bainbridge continued his downward spiral of alcohol and drugs. Like so many, many, many actors before him."

Cell phone recordings of the yacht blowing up in the distance were shown. And the fireworks that went off. "Oh, the humanity!" Pam was heard crying in the background.

Grace Ryan was shown again. "Police have declared this to be a case of accidental death. By drunk fireworks operation."

A police captain was shown. "Believe it or not this is a thing," He said. "Every year hundreds of people are either maimed or killed while operating fireworks. This is just the first time this happened to an actual celebrity. On a boat. Double header."

Grace was on screen again. "Blaine Bainbridge. His life and violent death are a lesson to us all. And that lesson is **don't get drunk** and operate **fireworks**!"

"They bought it," Cyril turned off the screen. "I can't believe they **bought it!"**

"Told you," Krieger shrugged. "People love a good Hollywood tragedy. The more outrageous the better."

"It also helps that his boat and body were completely incinerated by the blast," Lana added.

"And what little was left the sharks ate," Krieger added.

"Good thing we got all the security camera footage from Bainbridge's house," Lana sighed. "As well as cleaned up our fingerprints."

"That ain't all we cleaned up," Pam pointed to a large pile of clothes, wallets, watches, and other items on a table. "And this is just the crap we didn't want."

"He did have some nice men's watches," Ray admitted admiring his on his wrist.

"Indeed," Krieger grinned at his new watch.

"Gotta give it to the guy," Cyril looked at his new watch. "I can't believe the guy had over a thirty of these."

"Some of them are collector's items like this baby," Pam showed one on her wrist.

"Pam," Cyril sighed. "That's a men's watch."

"I know," Pam said. "It fits. So do some of his shirts."

"I took a couple of his shirts just to lie around in," Cheryl added.

"Me too," Ray nodded. "And he had some nice wallets."

"I needed a new wallet anyway," Cyril admitted.

"Me too!" Krieger added. "I even got some sweet games."

"That Space Invaders game does look pretty nice in the break room," Ray admitted. "And the pinball machine."

"And I got three booklets of stamps from his office!" Cyril showed them proudly. Everyone gave him a look. "What? Stamps are expensive!"

"I didn't think it was possible," Cheryl groaned. "But Cyril you even make looting boring!"

"Well **excuse me** for trying to cut costs around here!" Cyril snapped. "And here comes Lana with her judgmental nag about us taking things!"

"Honestly Cyril," Lana sighed. "It's kind of a moot point. We've done this so many times before."

"What did **you** take?" Ray asked with a sigh.

"Uhh…" Lana paused.

FLASHBACK!

" _Get the cookies Lana!"_ Lana fumed as she stormed into the kitchen. " _We're playing a_ _game Lana!_ I swear to god if I find those damn cookies I should poison them!"

"Now where are those cookies?" She wondered as she looked around. "And where's the alcohol while I'm at it? Oh, here's a cookie jar…"

She opened a cookie jar shaped like Jabba The Hutt. "I'll show them! I'm having a cookie first!"

She munched on one. "Damn these cookies are good. Hang on, there's something else inside here."

Lana then rummaged around in the cookie jar and pulled out a huge wad of cash wrapped in a plastic bag. "Holy shit there must be over seventeen grand in here," Lana whistled.

"Well that means AJ gets some new clothes and a toy. And Mommy is getting some new sweater dresses. And a new pair of designer boots. Forget the dresses. I'll just get the boots."

FLASHFORWARD!

"Cookies," Lana said with a straight face. "I have to admit those were good cookies."

"You got **cookies**?" Pam said. "Aw man! Well come on."

"What are you doing?" Lana asked as Pam, Cheryl and Krieger picked up all the objects from the table.

"We're going to take this crap down to Venice Beach and sell it," Pam said. "I think we can get a couple thousand for it."

"I have a better idea," Krieger said. "I know this pawn shop that pays well and doesn't ask questions."

"Perfect," Pam nodded. "Let's roll!"

"Well," Cyril sighed as Krieger, Pam and Cheryl left. "At least we made and stole enough money to keep the office open for a few weeks."

"You mean made and/or stole?" Lana asked.

"There's no **or** about it," Cyril groaned. "And everyone here **knows it!"**

"Honestly," Ray remarked. "It looks like Hollywood should hire bodyguards to protect them against **us**."


End file.
